The Playboy Assignment by Leigh Michaels

Author:Leigh Michaels
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2011-06-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

PIERCE’S voice was faint and hollow. “Susannah? Are you still there?” He sounded anxious.

She reached out for the telephone she’d dropped. “I’m here.”

“Now that we’ve got the Evans Jackson, we’ll need to start thinking about how we’re going to run the publicity campaign. This is a story that just begs to be—”

Susannah was horrified. “Pierce, you can’t mean to tell everybody in Chicago that I’m sleeping with Marc Herrington!”

“I was talking about the acquisition itself, Susannah, not how we got the painting. Though I must say Herrington doesn’t seem to think it’s private information.”

“Well, I think it’s very private. And besides, I’m not sleeping with him.”

“Whatever you say, Susannah.” There was something just short of a chuckle in Pierce’s voice. “The board thinks you’re doing a tremendous job, by the way.”

“You’ll never make me believe they’d approve of something so—” Words failed her.

“Well, approve might be a little strong, though the women members seemed to think they wouldn’t find any hardship in the deal. Oh, there was one exception—our accountant expressed a few reservations about how to put a figure on the donation. He said since Herrington’s getting value in return, Internal Revenue might have some objections to crediting him with the full amount of—”

Susannah gasped. “There’s no need to be crude,” she snapped, and hung up on him. Pierce had a nerve to talk to her like that!

But annoyed as she was with Pierce, he was far from the main focus of her anger and frustration. It was past time she made herself clear to Marc. This kind of nonsense simply could not go on any longer.

She seized her car keys and stormed down the stairs.

As Susannah passed the arched doorway to the receptionist’s office on her way to the back door and her car, Rita put the telephone down, half rose from her desk, and held up a hand. “Susannah—”

Susannah shook her head. “No time,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back. And if you get a collect call from the Cook County Jail, accept it. It’ll be me, needing bail money on a murder charge!”

Too late, she realized that Rita wasn’t alone in her office; sitting in one of the leather visitor’s chairs was a man Susannah had never seen before. However, one quick glance was enough to tell her he was most likely a client; his brown hair was precisely cut, and his suit had corporate middle management written all over it. And he looked absolutely thunderstruck.

She sent a rueful smile his way and muttered, “Sorry. You know how these things go.” Then, as fast as she could move without actually running, she retreated toward the back door.

Maybe, if she was lucky, he hadn’t caught her name. Maybe, even if he had, he’d think she was only an employee. Maybe, even if he figured out who she was, he wouldn’t think her gaffe important enough to mention to Alison or Kit—whichever one he was waiting to see. Maybe, even if he realized she was a partner, he wouldn’t allow her comment to affect his opinion of Tryad.

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